


Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

by catwalksalone



Category: due South
Genre: Comment Fic, First Time, M/M, Porn Battle, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-24
Updated: 2009-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-03 16:06:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catwalksalone/pseuds/catwalksalone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes office supplies are the only way to deal with a Vecchio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

**Author's Note:**

> Written for oxoniensis' Fifth Porn Battle, January 2008. Prompt - stapler.

The first time Vecchio threw the stapler at Ray's head, he let it go. And the second time. The third time he retrieved it from where it had lodged behind Marconi's file cabinet, pointed two fingers at his eyes, then at Vecchio's before stalking over, yanking Vecchio down by his necktie and, with five sharp whacks of his hand, stapling him to the desk. Smirking, he threw the stapler in the trash and sauntered off.

"You crazy fucking Polack!" he heard Vecchio scream. "This is a hundred percent silk, dumbass. I'm getting the Lieu to dock your wages!"

"Whatever, Vecchio," Ray flipped him the bird without looking round. He kept his shoulders square and his pace steady until he made it round the corner and then he hauled ass to the supply closet, jerked the door open and shut himself in, shaking. God, he was so _hard_. How the hell did his brain work that the more Vecchio yelled the more hot Ray got?

At least being stapled to the desk would keep Vecchio away from Ray long enough for him to cool down. Vecchio was always _there_ these days, two steps away, hanging over Ray's shoulder, pointing out his bad spelling, arguing about the best way to prepare a meatball sub, insulting his dress sense, his car, his method of interrogation--if he started in on Ray's mom, he was going down. Ray slammed his head back against the door and reminded himself to never _ever_ think of his mom, Vecchio and 'going down' in the same sentence again.

There was a rap on the door. It was an angry rap. A Vecchio rap. Kowalski sighed and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, shuffling a little on the spot, willing his hard on far, far away.

"I know you're in there, Kowalski, open up."

"No fish today, we're fully stocked." Ray could feel Vecchio's puzzlement through the door. He flashed a brief smile.

"Let me in, jackass."

"What, you want some more staples for your jacket?"

"Kowalski." Vecchio's voice was low and thrumming with a hint of something like danger behind it. Against his better judgment and grateful for the dark, Ray turned and opened the door.

"Be my guest."

For a brief moment light poured into the closet and Ray took in the picture of Vecchio, shirt now undone at the collar, no tie in sight, exposing that long, graceful neck that made Ray want to wrap his hand around it more ways than one. Big, green eyes flashing an unreadable message, dark and hooded, and a mouth twisted in something that could be a sneer or could be the beginning of a smile. But it was gone too quickly for Ray to tell, darkness closing around them once more.

"There's a light, Kowalski."

"You want it on so it's easier to punch me in the face? I don't think so."

Ray could feel Vecchio's body heat beating off him in waves. The guy was standing real close. It would be so easy to reach out and pull him in and-

-the kiss shocked the breath out of Ray's lungs. It was pushy and passionate and hot as hell. Ray wasn't surprised, all those things were trademark Vecchio. After a split second of short-circuiting brain, Ray grabbed fistfuls of Vecchio's shirt and hauled him in closer, grinding hard against his hip, licking into his mouth, a small part of his mind punching the air in triumph as Vecchio made these little moans of satisfaction and pushed back at Ray, making his arousal perfectly clear.

Ray dropped one hand to Vecchio's pants, fumbling at the belt. Vecchio broke the kiss and Ray panted through swollen, tingling lips.

"No," said Vecchio.

No? What did he mean 'No'? This was typical Vecchio. He pushed his way back into the 2-7, into Ray's dreams (where he was most certainly _not_ wanted), into the damn supply closet and into Ray's _mouth_ and now he was saying _no_? Ray let his mouth fill with invective and took a big breath.

"Let me." Vecchio dropped one hand from Ray's neck and slid the other round from the small of Ray's back.

Ray's mouth got it before his mind did and stayed firmly shut even as question marks popped and exploded in his brain. Vecchio was unbuckling Ray's belt. Vecchio was unbuttoning Ray's fly. _Vecchio_ was pushing his hand into Ray's boxer shorts and sinking to his knees.

He felt Vecchio's hand curl around him and then the warm wetness of mouth surrounding his cock and nearly buckled at the knees. Fuck, this felt good. He steadied himself on Vecchio's shoulders and gave himself up to the sensation of tongue and lips, of heat and hope. And then it was all too much, the needling, the build up, the apparent _flirting_ and Ray grunted a warning but Vecchio stayed right where he was as Ray came, banging his head back against a shelf to prevent himself yelling out.

Vecchio turned on the light to help Ray tidy himself up. He looked ruined and Ray felt a sharp beam of elation.

"Sorry I've been-" said Vecchio, rubbing the back of his neck and not meeting Ray's eyes.

"Yeah," said Ray, reaching up to a shelf beyond Vecchio's head, 'accidentally' brushing his cheek. "Me too. Here, have this by way of apology." He pressed a box of staples into Vecchio's hand and smiled.

 

   


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End file.
